Charred Redemption
by Jesterbelle
Summary: Sarah is a Savior of the Wastes, who isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. On her way to find her father, she stops in Underworld and meets a very tall, very quiet ghoul. Charon's got a dark history that he works very hard to keep buried. His new employer is a pain in the ass, but something about her makes him not mind his contract quite as much.
1. Paradise Crossed

Chapter 1: Lone Wandering

As Sarah crouched behind a rock, she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. She glanced around, squinting as she looked to the right. There it was: the Museum of History. It was slim chance, but she was hoping that she could find out something about her father. All that stood between her and the museum were these last two super mutants. Sarah checked her Pip-Boy. Only 4 stimpaks left, great. Quickly, she shoved a mutfruit in her mouth and washed it down with some dirty water, grimacing at the taste. After checking her equipment, she edged towards the super mutant. As she snuck up behind him, she thought to herself, 'The idiot doesn't even know I'm here.' When she was within five feet, she aimed her shotgun and blood exploded everywhere. The super mutant screamed and fell, decidedly dead. Sarah watched as its blood filled the cracks in the sidewalk, and grinned. God, do I love this, she thought.

As she turned to face the second super mutant, he bellowed at her, "Now try and hide from this!" He swung a sledgehammer aimed at her ribs and she dove to the side. It clipped her shoulder and she heard the wet crunch of bone. She landed on her back and pointed her shotgun at the super mutant's face. She fired, blinding him. The super mutant started swinging wildly, but at that point Sarah took her time finishing him off. Sarah walked towards the museum, her left arm dangling unnaturally, whistling as she went.

"Stop right there, Smoothskin," a voice warned, and Sarah turned to see a laser rifle aimed at her face. "You must be lost," the ghoul jeered, "or another human with a death wish." She lowered her weapon and smiled gruesomely, "Welcome to the Mall, tourist. My name's Willow." She nodded her gun towards the door to the museum and added, "Most of the residents aren't crazy about humans, but they'll sell to you, fix you up, as long as your caps are good and you're not a ghoul hater." Sarah shook her head. She was beginning to lose consciousness. As she hobbled towards the door Willow chuckled under her breath. Humans, she thought.

As soon as Sarah opened the door to Underworld, a ghoul in a utility outfit stopped her. "Oh, well, would you look at that! We got us a smooth skin visitor. We haven't seen one of your type in a long time," he said, eyeing her.

She was in no mood for banter and snapped, "Can I get the tour guide speech later? I need a doctor." The man, Winthrop, she noticed his name sewn onto his jumper, pointed towards the end of the hallway. Sarah sighed, thinking, It's going to be a long day.

"Like I was saying," Doc Barrows continued, "the shoulder is dislocated and your clavicle is fractured." Sarah gave a tight nod and set her teeth. She sat atop a dingy bed in the Underworld's infirmary, which was called The Chop Shop. She wasn't sure she appreciated the humor in the name, especially when a half falling apart ghoul sat in the corner. An occasional moan stemmed from there, followed by a glare from Doc Barrows. "You bring this on yourself, Patchwork."

"I know... I...know. Charon though. Azrhukhal didn't have to... Wait... What was I saying?" the man in the corner managed to stammer out. The smell of alcohol filled the clinic, and it wasn't coming from the antiseptic.

Nurse Graves came around the screen and handed Sarah a belt. "Bite down on this dear. It will help," she said gently. Once the belt was in between her teeth, Sarah closed her eyes and began to count to ten. She made it to five when the doctor wrenched her shoulder blade back into place. Sarah screamed through the belt. Doc Barrows and Nurse Graves turned her over, and before she could spit out the belt to yell for him to stop, Barrows had reset her clavicle, sending her spiraling into darkness. When Sarah woke up, sore, disoriented, and hungry, she checked her Pip-Boy to find it was twelve hours later. The corner occupied by Patchwork was now empty, and he was no where to be seen. Nurse Graves smiled at her from a nearby chair, "You're awake!"

Sarah grimaced as she rotated her shoulder; at least it worked now. "Yeah, it's a miracle. Where can I get something to eat?" Sarah asked, "and some chems too." She was still in too much pain to be chipper.

"If you want food it's Carol's, if you want chems it's the Ninth Circle. Supplies there's Underworld Outfitters. Before you go though, your payment…" Nurse Graves trailed off. Sarah blushed. She had almost forgotten to pay, after they had fixed her up. A small mountain of caps was dropped on the table. "That should be enough," Sarah grinned. Before Nurse Graves could tell her that that was too much, the door had opened and closed.

On the second floor Sarah stood in the doorway, looking left and right. Chems, or food. Food, or chems. Eventually the throbbing in Sarah's shoulder won and she ambled over to the Ninth Circle. It was a dirty bar, but then again every bar in the Capital Wasteland was filthy. That tends to happen at the end of the world. A thick smoke hung near the ceiling, added to when someone lit the occasional cigarette. After bullshitting with what had to be the sleaziest guy in the Wasteland, a ghoul named Ahzrukhal, Sarah sat at a lone table, injected herself with med-X, popped a Buffout and closed her eyes. The pain flowed out of her arm and Sarah whistled in relief. The place may have been shit, but the chems were Grade A. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a ghoul standing by himself, leaning against the wall. He watched everyone in the room, shifting from person to person. His arms were crossed, a hostile expression on his face. When he saw her looking at him, he narrowed his eyes.

Curious, Sarah got up and walked over to the ghoul. "Hi, I was wonderin-" she began.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal," he interrupted.

"But I was just-" she tried again.

"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal."

Sarah flushed with anger and stomped away. When she turned, a smile touched the ghoul's face. The smoothskin was amusing at least. Then, just as quickly as the smile appeared it was gone.

Sarah stomped up to the bar and slammed her hands down on the counter. "Ahzrukhal," she growled," who is that?"

Ahzrukhal followed her glare and laughed. "That's Charon. Let's just say… well, he's a loyal employee. Don't mess with me, and he won't mess with you."

Sarah blanched, "So, he's your slave?"

"I hold his contract, which makes me his employer," Ahzrukhal corrected. "He will do what I ask without question. He is absolutely loyal to whomever holds his contract. Unfailing, unflinching, until the day that employment ends. Don't get me wrong, I have no doubt that he holds no end of animosity towards me. But so long as he is my employee, he is as gentle as a teddy bear," he smirked.

"I'll give you two thousand caps for his contract," Sarah blurted out.

"You sure you've got that kind of scratch, smoothskin? If you have the money I suppose that could work… " In reply Sarah rummaged around in her bag until she found a bag with 101 stitched into the side. Caps clattered to the bar counter as they fell from the bag. Everyone in the Ninth Circle turned to watch as this human counted the largest pile of caps they had ever seen. Half an hour later Sarah held four caps in her hand, while Ahzrukhal began transporting the caps to his safe. Sarah rubbed her eyes. Counting all those caps had been exhausting. "I'll give you the pleasure of informing Charon yourself," Ahzrukhal said over his shoulder.

As the smoothskin approached Charon, he narrowed his eyes. She looked far too confident walking towards him. How much did it take for this girl to get the message? Rocking back and forth on her heels, she smiled. "Hey Charon."

"Talk to-," he began his one line.

Sarah smiled even bigger and shook her head. "Nope, I have good news. I'm your new employer."

Charon froze. "You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?" Charon grinned hideously. "So, I am no longer in his service. That is good to know." For the first time in a long time, Sarah felt a pang of fear in her stomach. With that terrifying look still on his face, Charon said politely, "Please wait here. I must take care of something." As he walked towards Ahzrukhal, Sarah turned and followed him. Ahzrukhal and Charon spoke for a moment and then, before anyone could stop him, Charon pulled his gun and shot Ahzrukhal once in the head. As his body slumped against the counter another shot shredded the already dead ghoul's chest. The limp body slipped to the floor, leaving a trail of blood down the counter. Everyone in the bar began screaming, fighting to see if Ahzrukhal was really dead. Charon nodded towards Sarah, saying, "Alright, let's go."

"Whoa! What the fuck was that?" Sarah stammered, her eyes traveling back to the bloody mess that was Charon's former boss.

"Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard," Charon said calmly. "Now that you're my employer, it freed me to rid the world of that disgusting rat. Now, for good or ill, I serve you."

Sarah paled and said, half-jokingly, "Remind me to stay on your good side." Charon said nothing. The bar was now empty, mostly because people were afraid that they were next on Charon's list. Sarah took that opportunity to search for and pick the lock on Ahzrukhal's safe. Charon looked at her questioningly, but said nothing. Sarah shrugged. "I just paid two thousand caps, and obviously he's not going to be needing it. We could use some upgrades. Your armor looks like it hasn't been repaired in 30 years. Wait… how old are you?" It was hard to tell his age. It was hard to tell the age of any ghoul.

Charon replied, "I was born in 2055."

"So you were alive before the Great War?" Sarah gasped. "What was it like, where were you from, who-?"

Before Sarah could continue, Charon whirled around. He said nothing, but his entire body screamed, Leave it alone, so the conversation was dropped altogether.

Sarah managed to find Underworld Outfitters and a ghoul woman greeted them, "Oh, a human. It's been so long since I had a customer!" Her eyes looked past Sarah, and when she saw Charon she started stammering. "I-uh, what can I get for you…two?" she asked, the latter word practically a question of its own. The walls were lined with shelves and a dirty rope barrier divided half the room.

"Well, we need all the food that this will buy, and I'd like to have a look at your weapons and armor," Sarah answered, dropping a small pouch of caps on the counter. "And while you do that, I hear you're the person to ask about the history of this place."

The little woman beamed at Sarah and launched into the full history of this place, as best she knew it. While the woman, Tulip, she said, filled a satchel with Mutfruit and Pre-War food she prattled on, talking about the pamphlets and books that she had read. One book, Paradise Lost, was apparently the basis for the entire underworld exhibit. She reached under the counter and produced a book, putting it into the bag with the food. "I found a big box of these in the back room. A gift for listening to me ramble."

"No, it was interesting!" Sarah exclaimed, nodding at the woman, "but thank you, books are hard to come by!" After Tulip had filled the satchel with food, she led Sarah to the back room, where the majority of her weapon and armor stock was kept. Sarah scanned over the equipment. Most of it was old and in poor condition, all but a set of Combat Armor and a sniper rifle. Sarah walked over to the gun and began inspecting it eagerly. "Tulip, this weapon is in pristine condition. It's hardly even been used!" Sarah cried as she looked into the chamber. "The breach doesn't even have any signs of wear!" Sarah looked at Tulip intently. "I have to own this gun, Tulip. Name your price." Sarah glanced at the Combat armor and added, "Oh, and the armor, too."

Tulip was slightly amused by this girl's antics over the gun. She had found it in the back room of the history museum, locked in a closet, with the combat armor. It had taken three hours and 30 bobby pins before the door was unlocked. She figured that it was the security guard's and had taken it to sell, but no one was willing to pay Tulip's asking price. "It's eight hundred caps for both, and I'll even throw in two boxes of ammunition for the rifle. Plus another two hundred for the supplies."

"Done," Sarah stated. She swung the gun over her shoulder, wincing. Her shoulder was still in pain and the Buffout was beginning to fade. She tossed the Combat armor to Charon.

"Put this on. Can't have you dying on me," Sarah said.

"As you wish," Charon replied.

Not much of a talker, Sarah thought. She counted out the caps and pushed the large pile towards the ghoul woman. "Easy come, easy go," Sarah smiled. She was beyond happy with her purchases. Meanwhile, Charon gazed at the two women with what seemed like abject disinterest. "Tulip, if you don't mind me asking, what do you spend caps on down here anyways?"

Tulip chuckled and said, "Well, there's Carol's for food. And the Ninth Circle, but I don't like it there." Tulip froze, her eyes looking at Charon, terrified. If Charon heard, he gave no sign of interest. Tulip cautiously continued, "Mostly we give our caps to Quinn to trade whenever he goes out."

"Well, I hope that helps," Sarah chirped. "We best be going. Bye, Tulip. See you around! Let me know if you get any more weapons like that!" As Sarah turned and walked out, Charon silently followed along.

Charon saw that, as soon as they walked out into the main hallway of Underworld, everyone stopped to stare at them. Apparently news of Ahzrukhal's death had travelled quickly in the small community. People stood, gathered in the halls, whispering amongst themselves. They were too afraid to confront Charon directly, or his new employer for that matter. The smoothskin whispered to Charon that she needed to make one more stop, and that he could wait outside. Charon stood outside the Chop Shop, watching everyone. Other than the occasional snarl, Charon ignored them. Until further orders were given, he would follow training protocols. He was used to new employers, though not ones so young. He noted that she had a lot of caps to spend, which was unusual, but Charon didn't really care one way or the other. That wasn't part of the his employer came out she looked a little pale, but otherwise uninjured. "You ready?" she asked. Charon curtly nodded. "Alright, let's go," she replied, already walking towards the door. Charon fell in line behind her.


	2. In the Talon's Grasp

Chapter 3: In the Talon's Grasp

It had taken them two weeks to get out of D.C and cross the river. The days were getting longer and hotter, and Sarah moved slowly because of her shoulder. Charon picked up the slack when it came to enemies, but that did nothing for their overall pace. They stopped frequently and she slept often. Charon hardly spoke during the trip, save when they were fighting Raiders or Mutants and Sarah was rarely in a mood to utter more than a few sentences. When she slept, he watched over her, refusing to take shifts. He was an excellent fighter, but his people skills left much to be desired.

Sarah waved to Stockholm with her good arm as she walked underneath the Megaton gates. Luckily, it was late, so she wouldn't have to answer a bunch of questions about who was with her. During the day, people swarmed around Megaton, but at night mostly people stayed home. The Wasteland was a dangerous place at night, sometimes even in a town like Megaton. Sarah knew that as soon as Stockholm was off, everyone in town would know she had brought a man home. Stockholm was a worse gossip than all the women in town put together, and nothing came into this town without him knowing. Sarah slipped through the town and into her house with Charon following.

"Welcome home, ma'am." Charon heard from behind him, and in a flash his gun was pointed at a robot.

"Whoa, whoa, that's just Wadsworth. He's cool, I promise," she assured him, resting her hand on Charon's gun. He lowered it, warily.

Charon then looked around his employer's house and noted the unique décor. It looked like something from before the war and - was that a tricycle? A well-worn rug and chairs decorated the living room, and to his left, he noted with disdain, was a coatrack. She went to all of the trouble to find one of those things? Boxes of food lined the shelves, neat and orderly. Usually his employers had been quick to assign orders, but as of yet, she had issued none. Unsure of this, he was also unsure of her behavior towards him. Their progress from Underworld had been slow. He noticed that her arm danged oddly, but she never volunteered any information and he never asked. As of yet, he was unable to assess her skills in battle.

She suddenly yelled from the kitchen. "Do you want anything? Maybe a Nuka-Cola or some Squirrel Stew?" Peeking her head around the corner she watched as Charon shook his head. "Well, I'm starving, so I'm making some food. Make yourself at home; your room is on the right up the stairs." Charon made his way upstairs and noted a jukebox and a medic unit. He unpacked his gear, sat down on his bed and began cleaning his combat shotgun. He had owned this gun longer than he could remember. Standard issue, only slight modifications had been made to the weapon. He preferred the reliability of a manufacturer's model. From downstairs he could hear her moving in the kitchen as she began to hum loudly, and sometimes off key. It sounded like something from the radio. When he had finished cleaning his weapon, he cleaned his armor, buffing out a scratch from a Mirelurk claw. Once that was done, he walked downstairs.

When he rounded the corner the smoothskin was leaning over into the fridge. She had changed into a blue dress, and for the first time Charon allowed himself to thoroughly inspect his new employer. She was short, with dark brown mussed hair that she had tied back as soon as she got home. Her arms and legs were toned and a large scar sliced its way across her calf. A large discolored bruise expanded from beneath her dress and made its way down her shoulder. That must've happened recently, he thought. Charon stood in the corner of the room watching the smoothskin until she had finished cooking. While she wasn't fat, she had the full cheeks and healthy glow of someone who ate regularly. The Wasteland hasn't stripped her bare, yet.

"Don't you want to sit with me?" she asked, cocking her head. She had sat on the couch, but Charon remained standing stiffly in the corner. Silently, he sat down. Sarah nervously bit her lip until she found the courage to speak. "Charon," she said softly. "I know that you've had a difficult life, and I can't begin to imagine what that was like for you. But I bought your contract from Ahzrukhal because I couldn't stand the thought of someone as disgusting as him practically owning another person. I don't believe in slavery. I want people to be as happy as they can be in this shithole world. I didn't buy your contract so that you would work for me. I bought it so that I could give it to you." Charon looked at her apprehensively, as if waiting for the punch line to a bad joke. Sarah just sat there, waiting for a response. She wiggled her toes absentmindedly.

"I am sorry to disappoint you Smoothskin, but that isn't how my contract works. I cannot own my contract."

Sarah slowly looked up, horrified. "You mean you have no choice? I have to own you?!" she shrieked.

"I belong to no one. You are my employer and I will serve you, but you do not own me," Charon corrected.

Sarah stammered, "Of course, I never meant… Oh, I'm sorry. There must be a way out of this. Let me read the damn thing." Sarah fished around in her bag until she found the paper. "To Whomever holds this contract holds the services of one male ghoul, identified Charon. Physical abuse is to be considered Breach of Contract. If any of these terms are breached knowledgably by employer, employee maintains the right to terminate. Once terminated, employee will seek new employment. Aforementioned employee may not take possession of his contract through any means including: killing, stealing, and/or willful receiving from the employer. If in any case this contract is destroyed employee is to immediately terminate. Contract is only valid though possession." Sarah finished reading and stared at the document, her fingers tracing over the words. "Charon, is this written in…blood?"

Charon's eyes turned dark, "Yes," he replied. "Mine." Without saying another word, he got up and went to his room, leaving Sarah to eat her meal alone.

That night Sarah got into bed, gingerly touching her shoulder. It would be healed in another week or two, but she didn't have a week. Her father was out there now. Drifting off to sleep, the pain in her shoulder waning the deeper she fell. The next thing she knew a hand was pressed down over her mouth and a man was sitting on her legs. Something pulled her hands up over her head. The sound of screaming was so muffled she knew no one would hear.

"No no no, sweetheart. There'll be none of that," the man sitting on Sarah's legs said quietly. He was big, with dark hair and eyes, his skin weathered by the sun. He traced a knife down her neck and chest, pausing at her navel. "Now, I'm sure you know who we are, don't you deary?" Sarah shook her head and the man chuckled. "Well, allow us to introduce ourselves. We are with Talon Company. We go out and people pay us to do the jobs none of the other mercenaries will do. And someone really wants you dead," the man grinned sadistically. "Now love, you're gonna die, but I see no reason that the boys and I can't have our fun. Right boys?" the man asked, looking at his comrades. The other men nodded eagerly. The man stroked the knife along her face, drawing a thin line of blood. "It's been a long time since we had someone so pretty to have fun with."

The third man, tall with a scraggly beard, picked up the dress Sarah had been wearing earlier and handed it to what she assumed was the leader. He shoved it into Sarah's mouth and began slicing her shirt, exposing her breasts to the men. She began to struggle, but a knife to her throat made her freeze. "Move again, and I'll slice off an ear," the man threatened. He continued slicing away until there was nothing left but her underwear. The man with the beard began groping her breasts, and despite her best efforts, Sarah began to cry, which only made the men laugh. The man holding her hands leaned down from above her and licked her tears away from her cheeks. His breath smelled like rotten food and Sarah gagged. The leader had cut away her underwear and was fondling her as she clenched her legs shut.

Slowly, the door creaked open but the men were so preoccupied that they didn't hear. Within seconds the three men were slumped over, a single shot to the forehead for each of them. Sarah crawled to the edge of the bed, cradling herself as she cried. Charon pushed open the door completely; in his hands was the sniper rifle that she had purchased from Tulip.

Charon picked up two of the men and threw them down the stairs. Once he had done the same with the third he came back and sat on the opposite edge of the bed. Sarah whimpered, "Thank you Charon. I-I don't know what would've happened without you."

Charon muttered, "It's in the contract…"

Sarah touched his arm, "Still, thank you." She tried to smile at him through her tears, but she didn't know if it came across. "Um, I know this is asking a lot, but will you stay in my room tonight? I don't think I can sleep alone." Charon nodded and sat down in the chair by Sarah's desk. He closed his eyes while Sarah changed into something not shredded, although he glimpsed a sight of her thigh as she got off of the bed.

'Get ahold of yourself, you haven't been that long without,' Charon thought to himself. That one night that Ahzrukhal had let him off, Greta had made him an offer that couldn't be politely refused. But that had been years ago. Ahzrukhal did not give many days off.

Once Sarah was back in bed she peeked at Charon. He was intently staring at the door, rifle in his lap. She closed her eyes, and felt safe.

Once she was asleep and her breathing was regular, Charon allowed himself to look at the smoothskin. Wisps of her dark brown hair framed a heart shaped face. Her mouth was full and her cheeks were tearstained. A cut ran along the side, a drop of dried blood in the corner. How old is this girl, Charon wondered. She can't be more than 20 years old. Sighing, he leaned forward, tracing his thumb along her cheek, stopping at the cut. Her skin was smooth, unlike his. He looked at his hand, gnarled and rough. He put his hand back on his gun, watching the door. This was easy for him, slipping into an autopilot of sorts. The hours passed quickly, although he would occasionally steal a glance to the sleeping girl beside him.


	3. The Morning After

Chapter 4: The Morning After

When Sarah woke up the next day, she opened her eyes to see Charon sitting in the exact same position as last night, still intently watching the door. During their trip home, she had been in too much pain to really look at him closely, but now she was curious. Some of his hair was gone; red patches here and there were all that remained. His skin was ridged with rises and falls, like a topography map. It looked leathery, and sections of corded muscles showed through were other skin had fallen off. She wasn't sure, but it looked like some sort of epithelium covered the muscles to protect them. I'll ask dad, she thought, when I find him. When she had been chosen as a medical doctor by the G.O.A.T her father had been so proud, although he assured her that he would've been proud of her no matter what. She didn't believe that, but it took years to learn the medical field. The longer she was out in the Wasteland, the more knowledge slipped away. Instead of being able to recite the bones in the hand, she could now dress a field wound using a duct tape and a teddy bear. Both useful, but hardly equivalent.

Charon's face was much the same as the rest of his body. Sarah could tell that he had once been a handsome man. He's still handsome, for a ghoul, she thought. His eyes, milky and blue, seemed focused on the door. Her eyes trailed down to his chest. In his armor he seemed large, but now, seeing him in a faded black t-shirt, she could see how defined they really were. Most of the skin under his shirt looked intact, although it was hard to tell for certain. As she scanned over Charon again she noted just how tall he really was, over six-foot. Sarah made a mental note to get a measuring tape. She was still intently looking over his hardened stomach when he lightly cleared his throat. Sarah's eyes flew upwards and her stomach dropped when she realized that he had been watching her examine him.

Charon had just looked over to check on his employer, when he realized she was awake, and staring at him. She was examining his body, most likely because she had never gotten the chance to inspect a ghoul up close before. Slightly disgusted with himself, he cleared his throat. The look of surprise of her face was so amusing that he struggled not to laugh. "I see you are awake," he said flatly. She nodded once, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. He could see her body change when she remembered what had happened last night. Her face went pale and her eyes widened as she looked towards the door, shaking.

"Are-are they, I mean them. Did you…" she trailed off, her voice breaking.

Charon's face softened against his will. "They are downstairs. If you wish, I will dispose of them immediately."

"If you don't mind. Thank you, Charon. I don't think I can look at them," the smoothskin said, with a ghost of a smile. The expression didn't touch her eyes and he could still see the vulnerability. As he turned to leave, she got out of bed and began dressing herself.

Charon was about to leave on his task when the smoothskin flew around the stairs, clutching the railing. She had a wild look in her eyes and, before he could say anything, she began shouting, "Wadsworth! Charon, where is Wadsworth?" She looked around, frantically. Charon had almost forgotten about the three-armed bucket of metal. Wadsworth was slumped up against the wall, and she immediately ran over. After rolling up her sleeves, she unscrewed the back plate to access his mainframe. After a couple of minutes she pulled out a brick-sized piece of metal.

"Looks like they shot his sensor module. Not a difficult replacement, thankfully," she choked out, happily. Wiping a tear away, she turned to Charon and explained shyly, "Since Dad left I've been pretty much by myself. Wadsworth has been one of my only real friends out here. I know he's just a robot, but he tells me jokes and is always happy to see me…"

Not knowing what else to say, Charon grunted, "At least you're good with machines."

She smiled at him, and her eyes lit up. "Yeah, I guess I am. I'm gonna go to Moira's and see if she's got a replacement sensor module in that hoarder's nest of hers."

Without a second thought she was out the door, running through Megaton. Charon looked down at the bodies and weighed his options. The scum can wait, he decided, trotting after her.

He caught up to her outside a building with Craterside Supply painted onto the walls. A large airplane decorated the roof, with the word "Supply" in big letters staked on top. Walking through the door, even Charon was amazed at the variety and quantity of items in the shop. They seemed to be stuffed into every nook and cranny, with junk even overflowing onto the floor. A mousy woman in a Rob-Co jumpsuit smiled brightly as soon as she saw them walk through the door.

"There's my super-assistant! What's up?" the woman, presumably Moira, chattered.

His employer rather sheepishly, shrugged her shoulders and rubbed the back of her neck absentmindedly. "Well, I really just need a sensor module and then I've gotta go," she mumbled halfheartedly.

"Sure, I've got one around here somewhere…Hmm…Dootdeedo… Where did I put you…" Moira said, mainly to herself. "Oh!" she shouted, startling everyone. "Did you know that the human body can live without a stomach or spleen? I need to run some tests though… Wait, what was I looking for?" Moira asked, looking around.

Looking exasperated, the smoothskin began looking for the item herself while Moira hopped up on the counter and began telling her about Centaurs and ways of testing their intelligence.

Waiting patiently, Charon noticed a man standing in the corner. Making eye contact, the two men nodded to one another. They recognized each other for what they were, and left it at that.

Finally, she pulled out a sensor module out of a box titled 'Med Supplies,' and sighed with relief. After paying Moira and promising to stop by again soon, his employer exited Craterside Supply, rubbing her temples.

Slightly embarrassed, she stammered, "Moira is a really sweet person and I love her, but she kills me sometimes. Between her and that damn book..." She trailed off. "Oh, I guess you wouldn't know about that," she clarified. " I'm helping her create… The Wasteland Survival Guide," she said, dramatically placing her hands on her hips, eyes to the sky. She laughed, "At least, that's what the plan is."


	4. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Chapter 5: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Once they made their way back to her house, Charon wordlessly grabbed the bodies and took them outside. Sarah went over to Wadsworth and felt around, locating the connection wires for the new sensor module. After fiddling around for a moment, Wadsworth's lights came on and he floated up, his exhausts puttering. "Wadsworth," Sarah cried, throwing herself onto the robot.

Patting her back with one of his arms, the robot said happily, "It's good to see you alive and well, madam."

Now Sarah had a score to settle. After pounding on Lucas Simms' door for thirty minutes, his son opened the door, still sleepy-eyed, and told Sarah to check the Brass Lantern, the local tavern. On her way she ran into several residents, all giving her knowing smirks. Apparently Stockholm just got off duty, she sighed to herself.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the Brass Lantern, Sarah sought out Simms. "Lucas, we need to talk, now," she said curtly. The man shoved the last of his breakfast, some Dandy Boy Apples, into his mouth and stood, putting on his Sheriff's hat. He followed her past Craterside, back to her house. "These fuckers broke into my house Simms. They passed your guards, came into my house and tried to rape me and assassinate me," she roared. "I want justice. I want vengeance. I want their blood. Do you hear me Simms?" she questioned as he looked over her bedroom silently.

"Why aren't you dead?" Sheriff Simms asked curiously, avoiding the girl's anger. "You said there were three of them, and you were unarmed and ambushed. Why aren't you dead?"

Sarah stammered, "Well, I have a friend staying in the room next to mine. He heard the commotion."

"I'd keep him around if I were you, 101. He might be your rabbit's foot," Simms chuckled. At Sarah's continued insistence Simms agreed to a pulley system that would alert Stockholm if anything went amiss.

Charon received no end of odd looks, carrying two dead bodies and dragging a third out of Megaton. He assumed that ghouls weren't seen that often around Megaton, but honestly, he didn't give a fuck. The scum had been stripped of their armor and looted for any valuables. He walked them around back of Megaton, dropping the bodies off for a pack of vicious dogs. The air was crisp and his employer had not specified how quickly he was to return, so he took his time, sitting on a large boulder. He could still see the dogs off in the distance. It looked like they were playing tug of war with a femur. Obviously they had enjoyed the meal Charon provided them. A rock bit into his thigh and when he shifted his weight a rock came loose under his foot. Sticking out from the boulder was a piece of paper. Looking closer, he noticed a sniper rifle and some other items hidden in the hollowed out rock. It had just caught Charon's eye when he felt something poking into his back. An old raider had his gun pointed straight at Charon's spine.

"Well, someone's trying to take my shit," the old raider chuckled. "Name's Sam, Sam Warrick. I'd ask your name, but you're about to die."

Turning suddenly, Charon twisted the gun out of the man's hands. The raider lunged, trying to grab his gun and the two tumbled to the ground. Carrick ended up on his back and rough fingers found his eyes, pressing in until they were gouged out of his skull. Blood splashed onto the dry dirt beneath him. Their fighting had stirred up the dust and Charon's mouth was full of grit. He spat on the ground, watching as the man lay writhing. The supplies from the rock and Sam were collected before a whistle rang out alerting the dogs that had been gnawing on the dead Talon Company. Their muzzles were coated in blood and gore, but they were far from satisfied. The now-blind raider had nowhere to run. Ten minutes later, the only pieces left of Sam Warrick were bits of the leather armor he wore. When the dogs began to eye Charon, he shot them safely from the rock. He made his way home, swinging the dog meat he had gathered from his shoulder.

His employer's door opened, and out walked a large man, causing Charon to narrow his eyes. The man was tall, though not as tall as him, with a Sheriff's badge and laser rifle slung over his back. The way he carried himself said that he was experienced in the Wastes, but he was older, and older meant slower.

"Charon," Sarah paused, noting his hand reaching for his shotgun, "this is Sheriff Simms. He's a good friend. He was helping me set up a security system." She had conveniently left out the fact that her new companion was a ghoul, but she also knew that Simms was too polite to comment. Charon mumbled under his breath and lowered his hands from his gun. Simms's eyes lingered on the ghoul for a moment before glancing back to Sarah and raising an eyebrow. She ignored his silent question, and so Simms went on his way, tipping his hat to them both. Once they were inside, the gear that had been collected was laid out on the floor and the dog meat placed in the fridge. While holding the Talon Company Armor, a gleam flashed into her eyes. Looking to Charon, a deathly smile came over her lips. She giggled, "I think I have an idea."


	5. Keep Your Hands Off

Chapter 6: Keep Your Hands Off

This is a bad idea, Charon thought as he packed. His employer had said little about where they were headed. But it had taken three days to get all of the supplies needed for the excursion, as she called it. He shrugged. They were set to head out to in the morning. He would find out then. Besides, it wasn't really his job to ask questions.

The next morning, his employer was abnormally quiet. Charon wasn't sure if this is how she acted in the Wastes or she was nervous. Employers always have their idiosyncrasies, but he had yet to figured out hers. She's an enigma. They slipped out of Megaton at dawn and made their way east. By the afternoon they had covered seven miles and Charon could tell that they were getting close. He could tell how tense her body was, and he gripped his gun a little tighter.

Once they reached the outskirts of the Capital, she suddenly stopped. Dupont Station was nearby, which could take them anywhere. He was so wrapped up in trying to guess her next move that he almost didn't hear her speak.

"We need to talk," she said anxiously.

Stoically, Charon nodded. "If that is what you wish." His pack slipped off of his shoulder, landing on a rock. He sat down next to it, the dust settling in a thin layer on everything within reach. He wiped his face with his undershirt, leaving a streak of brown on the black material.

"Well, um, I know I've been keeping you in the dark about where we're going," she admitted, lowering her eyes to the dirt. She kicked a rock with her boot. "Truth is, I've been embarrassed…I've asked around about a guy I know that has the information I need. The problem is he's… eclectic. I've tried everything I can think of to get him to talk to me. Every time I go in there with my armor on he says I have no personality." She paused, looking at him trying to read his face. "Nova recommended something to me and I want to give it a try."

"Who is Nova, and what would she know about getting a man to talk?" Charon asked, warily. His stomach fell as his suspicions were confirmed.

"She's, well, uh… an entertainer. Yeah, an entertainer," the smoothskin offered, obviously pleased with herself.

He knew what kind of entertainer Nova was, and his fists clenched in response. "I will follow your lead," Charon responded, through gritted teeth.

Sarah peeked around the boulder. Charon hadn't moved. With his back to her, she walked around, stuffing her armor into her bag. Her old vault suit had come in handy, she thought, if only in a slightly nauseating way. "Charon, you know the plan, right? I need you to forge ahead, clearing out any major enemies. I have no protection like this," she said, motioning to the vault suit. "Once we get to the point I indicated on the map, we will holster our weapons. Charon, that's really important," Sarah emphasized. He mumbled in return, which she took for assent. She steadied her breathing, trying to ease her nerves while Charon picked up his pack, trotting towards the Capital. After counting to 30, she set off behind him.

Following behind Charon is like taking a walk through the Vault. Other than that a single molerat that came from the west, he had warded off a group of raiders and a mirelurk without Sarah having to lift a finger. It was almost… boring. Wishing she had killed the mirelurk; she arrived soon after him at the barricade. Engraved in the side, a warning read, 'Keep your guns holstered or get shot.'

Paranoid old bastard, Sarah thought, dreading this encounter. Resigned, she stepped to the side and began unzipping her vault suit.

Charon tried to look away, he really did. But his eyes were glued to the torturously low opening of her vault suit that came ever lower with each second. His employer's vault suit, he reminded himself. Only when she looked at him did Charon look away nonchalantly. Preparing himself for when she was finished, he recited his contract to himself. It was muscle memory slipping into his shell. It was the only was he had managed to stay sane. He knew who and what he was. Once she was done, Charon saw her swallow some pills. After that, it was like the girl in front of him had transformed into another person. The thin nightwear clung to her body, hiding very little. The bruise on her shoulder was still a vivid purple, but did nothing to detract from her beauty. Her lips seemed more full, and her body more languid. Her eyes, sultry and dark, were trying to draw him in. Charon looked away first, and his atypical reaction to staring bothered him. It was always other people looking away from him. Trying to ignore the way her skin flushed, he nodded towards the door. This is my personal hell, Charon thought as he watched her hips sway under the thin material. Growling, he picked up the bag and followed her inside.

Sarah felt powerful. Something about this nightie that Nova gotten her made her feel all at once very womanly. It had taken a few days to get the right size. Nova tried to lend hers, but they had been different sizes in the chest area, and while she wanted Dukov to talk, she wasn't willing to walk into his place nipples out. This was bad enough as it was. Walking through the doors, she coolly entered the main room, and smiled sweetly as the shit stain named Dukov walked down the stairs.

"Oh, baby! Let me get you something special. How about a Dukov surprise? Hah ha!" the man laughed.

"Dukie, don't you remember me?" Sarah asked coyly. "And I thought we had something special," Sarah whined.

"Well I'll be fucked. It's the Vault Bitch from 101. Maybe I need to buy a space inside your vault, eh, sweet cheeks," Dukov leered. Just then, he noticed all six feet of Charon behind her, and his jaw clenched, looking all at once very nervous. "Who's the stiff, doll? Don't tell me you got yourself a man- a ghoul, for that matter."

"Oh, Dukov," Sarah giggled, a strap of her nightie falling, "that's Charon, we travel together." Neither man nor ghoul missed the strap falling off of her shoulder, showing more of the pale breast hidden by lace and silk.

Dukov moved closer. "You've got a smokin' bod, Sugar Pie. How about letting old Dukov rock you to sleep, if you know what I mean?"

She lowered her lashes. "I would love to take you up on that, but I have some questions I need to ask first," she huffed, trying to sound impatient for...other activities. The older man rested his hand on her shoulder, leering. It felt like the Talon Company all over again, and she struggled to not bolt for the door.

Dukov lapped it up. "Sure, baby! Whatever questions you got, Dukov's got the answer," he smiled. "Cherry, Fantasia, get your sugar-coated asses down here and get us some fucking booze," he yelled, and two women walked downstairs, both wearing scant nothing, just like Sarah.

Charon was livid. It was taking every ounce of training and self-control to keep from blowing this Dukov's chest wide open. He could almost taste the blood and smiled to himself, however small. Snapping back to reality, he noticed Dukov's hand resting in the small of smoothskin's back, and reached for his weapon. His fingers had just brushed the barrel when saw her looking at him. Without saying anything, her eyes were pleading with him. He lowered his hand from behind his back, slowly. She gave him a small smile and went back to laughing at Dukov's joke about something vulgar, Charon was sure. While they talked, he entertained himself by imagining a different death for the fleshy man every time he touched her.

At one point Dukov walked into the back room, leaving them alone for a moment. As soon as he was gone, his employer sank into her chair, and Charon could see just how difficult this was for her. Still, when the man came back into the room carrying several sheets of paper, she had straightened up and was licking her lips, looking every bit like the two girls that Dukov had living here.

"Here's what I have on them, Sugar Tits," he nuzzled into her neck. "Now, how about we get down to the real business, your business?"

"Sure thing, I've got a special surprise for you" the smoothskin winked up at him. She grabbed his hand, and led him upstairs, leaving Charon visibly shocked. After five minutes, Charon watched as his employer ran down the stairs in her vault suit, clutching the sheets of paper. Grinning, she motioned towards the door, and he fell into line behind her.

Once outside, she shouted her happiness, letting her voice echo against the ruined buildings. They traveled quickly and as soon as they were back across the river, the smoothskin threw herself down on the coast. Charon stood next to her, looking down. She began furiously digging through her bag until she pulled out a bar of soap and a rag. Looking at him sheepishly, she mumbled something about needing to "be clean again." Without a word, he turned around and began surveying the area for enemies. Soon, he heard splashing. Without provocation, she started talking to him.

"Dukov is the only merc I know that would've had any dealings with the Talon Company. Turns out he hates them too, and he has decent information about their base. Too bad Dukov's special present was some laced whisky I got from Nova. Said she uses it on really bad johns," she admitted, then paused, realizing the mistake she made. "Well, I guess you might as well know," the smoothskin yielded, as if he didn't already know what she was going to say, "Nova is a prostitute. She's really nice though! You'll like her," she said lightly.

Over the next thirty minutes, she rambled about whatever entered her mind, without Charon saying a word. She told him about the soap, and how she made it herself by using rendered Brahmin fat and some Pre-war perfume she had found scavenging. Almost longingly, she mentioned her dad giving her a BB gun on her birthday. If it wasn't for that, she would've never handled a weapon before entering the Wastes. When the smoothskin started talking about the wildlife of the Wasteland, wondering if she could persuade one of the Scavengers to sell her one of their dogs, Charon smiled.

Sarah sighed. She wasn't really sure how many RadAway she had left, but was pretty sure it was gonna have to take all of them for this bath. It was so nice, though. The idea of seasons was still odd, but it had begun to get warmer, and the water was now tolerable, especially in the late afternoon. She never did this alone, but she felt safe with Charon watching over her. Talking to him felt so natural. He never said anything, but she knew he was listening.

"Charon," her voice carried softly over the water, "would you do something for me?" She paused," Would you say my name?"

For a long time Sarah heard only silence. Charon debated on whether or not to acknowledge the girl. His voice cracking, he said her name. "Sarah," his voice echoed across the water. Floating with her eyes closed, Sarah smiled.


	6. The Saint and the Sinner

Chapter 7: The Saint and the Sinner

The sun was beginning to rise when Megaton came into view. Sarah was thankful. Soaking in the river had been nice, but her shoulder was still tender and it would be nice to sleep in her own bed. Charon walked along behind her, expressionless as always. A blush tinted her cheeks when she thought about the request she had made of him, and she blushed more deeply when she remembered the way her name had sounded on his lips. His gravelly voice seemed to suit him so well that it was hard to imagine anything else, even though she knew that his damaged vocal cords stemmed from his ghoulification. Stockholm waved down to the pair, but neither waved back.

As soon as they entered the house, Sarah dropped her bags and trudged upstairs, unbuckling her armor as she went, letting the pieces fall to the floor. Some of them landed with a clunk, while others fell down the stairs, clattering until they hit the bottom. I'll pick them up later. Falling onto her bed at last, she closed her eyes and was asleep before she had even pulled her blanket up.

Charon watched as the smoothskin… Sarah… no— the smoothskin, walked upstairs, visibly exhausted. Her armor started hitting the ground before he realized she was taking it off. By the time she was at the top of the stairs, Charon had just barely glimpsed her bare legs as she disappeared into her room. Charon began walking around, picking up the pieces of armor scattered around the house. Once he had collected them all, he knocked on her door. When there was no answer he pushed it open and found the smoothskin passed out on her bed. She hadn't even covered herself up. Setting the armor on her desk, he reached down and pulled up the blankets, covering her. She snuggled into the blanket, drawing her hand up under her chin. He wondered what her lips tasted like. He watched her eyes flutter, drifting deeper into sleep.

Like the sun, he thought, she consumes everything. Including me. He reached out, cupping her cheek with one hand. The cut on her cheek from the mercs had begun to heal, leaving a thin red slash. The sudden desire to kiss her scratched cheek overtook him. He began to lean in when the scar on his wrist caught his eye. Deep and ugly, it was engraved remind him of what he was. Charon jerked back. Nearly tripping, he ran down the stairs. He kept running, blindly, until he realized that he was out in the wastes, miles from Megaton. Bending over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily, he looked around. The terrain was different, flatter than the area around Megaton. He needed something, anything, to stop thinking. In the west he spotted a camp of raiders. Charon grinned, bloodthirsty. Yes, he thought, that will do.

The raiders had tried to surround Charon. He let them get close, and when the leader approached him cockily, Charon was amused.

"Look at what we have here boys," the man sniggered, "A zombie out in the wastes." He noted the raider's shabby armor. Raiders always wore shitty armor, and this one was no exception. Raiders have shitty everything, Charon thought, and best of all, no one cares if you kill a few. The leader wore his greasy hair spiked up into rows. It was tinted green at the tips, but had grown out from a mousey brown, making his hair seem sickly.

Charon observed the man and then smiled at him, beaming radiant happiness. The leader, somewhat shaken, took a step back. Still smiling, Charon drove his combat knife up through the man's jaw, clutching his back to hold him in place. Warm blood poured out of the raider's mouth. It coated his chest, splashing onto Charon's neck and arms. The warmth bubbled onto his skin. It felt invigorating and he rolled his shoulders, flexing. The other raiders were frozen in place, watching the gruesome scene with horror. As the knife was removed, he dropped the body and turned towards the remaining raiders. Two of them turned around and ran. Cowards, Charon thought. This left one man, still standing his ground. The now lone raider cocked his hunting rifle, aimed at the vicious ghoul, and fired. The bullet embedded itself into Charon's armor. Throwing his shoulder into the chest of the raider, the man fell to the ground on his back, struggling to breathe. Charon crouched down near the man's head and looked down at the gasping man. Charon tilted his head and smirked, "Seems you broke a couple ribs there. Lets see if I can help with the pain." With an elated expression, Charon sliced open the man's stomach, drawing a thick line of blood.

The sun was setting by the time Charon was able to track down the other two raiders. He found one hiding behind a rusted out truck. The cowering man smelled like piss and fear. The other one was a girl, tall and thin. She hid in plain sight, looping back around to where her fallen comrades were. When he finally found her, she was clutching the dead leader's head in her lap, stroking his face. They both begged and pleaded. Charon took great pleasure in the feeling of their intestines sliding through his fingers.

Sitting on a rock, his foot propped up on one of the raider's heads, Charon gazed out over the Wasteland. He needed to head back. Getting up, he didn't even bother to loot the bodies. Let the vultures have it, he thought. Heading east, he made his way back to Megaton.

When Sarah heard the door open she was in her room. She had woken up hours ago, and had been wondering where Charon was. The armor sitting nicely on her desk had not escaped her, and as a thank you, had cooked a meal for him. It was still in the oven, warming. Leaving her room, Sarah called out from the balcony, "Charon, there you are! I cooked us some dinner and I got some scotch from Gob. You like scotch right? My dad likes scotch. I really don't care for the—."

Sarah froze as she leaned over the balcony, coming face to face with Charon. He was covered in blood. It was crusted onto his armor, and his arms and legs were coated in dried blood. Even his hair was matted down. Without thinking, she vaulted the railing and landed lightly on her feet. His eyes looked wild, never focusing on her for too long.

Sarah grabbed Charon's hand and called out for Wadsworth. "Wadsworth, bring me some towels, and activate the infirmary."

Floating up the stairs, Wadsworth replied, "Yes madam, right away."

"Charon," Sarah said delicately, "can I remove your armor? I need to check you for wounds."

When he looked at her, his face was raw with pain. His voice quivering, he growled, "Please, just stop. Just stop… looking at me." Yanking his hand away, he walked upstairs and shut his door. Unsure of what to do, she placed towels and some water in front of his door. On top of the towels she set a plate of food wrapped in cloth.

Closing her door for the night, Sarah looked at his door with dismay. Later that night when she was in bed, she heard his door open and then close. She listened as he shuffled around in his room. Rubbing her eyes, Sarah got out of bed and padded across the floor. She stood in front of his door, deciding what she should do. Hesitant, she knocked on his door. Moments later he opened the door, angrily. The bright light disoriented her and she squinted, covering her eyes. Charon was in a pair of Brahmin skin pants, his chest bare. Most of the dried blood had been wiped off, but his expression had not changed. As he stared at her, he pulled on the same black t-shirt he always wore.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked curtly. She was lost; she hadn't really planned on him actually opening the door.

Charon was in pain, and when he heard a knock at his door, anger welled up inside him. When he opened the door and saw her standing there, barefoot, he had to steel himself from her warmth. The smoothskin looked like she had just woken up. "I thought you might need help with your wounds," she said, looking at the gashes in Charon's arms. Realizing he had no choice, and that he did need help, he grunted and stepped to the side, allowing her inside.

He sat down on the bed and watched as she began soaking some cloth in water. She came over and began poking his arm. He hissed at her, but she merely looked at him with abject consternation. Once she was finished looking she got up and walked out of the room wordlessly. Coming back with a large needle, she told him that this was going to hurt. Charon watched as she injected the needle right above the gash. She then got the cloth that had been soaking in water and wrapped it around his arm. Immediately, Charon felt a warm and pleasant sensation around his wound.

Without prompting she told him that Gob had told her about irradiated water helping to heal ghouls. Who the fuck is Gob, Charon thought.

Tying the cloth, she added, "Keep that on all night okay? And eat something too." She pointed towards the food on his table and yawned. "I'm going back to bed," she said over her shoulder as she tried to walk back to her room.

Before she could reach the door, Charon reached out and grabbed her. Pulling her towards him, Charon folded his arms around her, with his head buried into her hair. He breathed in deeply, and the light smell of jasmine and vanilla flooded his senses. He had forgotten what flowers smelled like. He pulled her tighter into him, wanting for all purposes, to disappear into her. She stiffened. He groaned into her ear, "Just…one more second." Her warmth was addictive, and it took several more seconds before he finally dropped his arms to his side. Leaning into the door the smoothskin turned, her face flushed. She looked at him hesitantly and leaned up to him. Charon could feel her heated breath on his cheek. Her hand pressed into his chest, and he could feel the calluses on her palm. She kissed him lightly once on the cheek and then she was gone, almost as if a mirage. He looked down at his arm to see if the bandage was really there, or if this had all been a hallucination. Charon didn't sleep that night. He just kept reliving the feeling of her warm lips on his skin.


	7. Dangerous as a Butter Knife

Chapter 8: Dangerous as a Butter Knife

Sarah woke up and stretched, her eyes still closed. Smiling into her pillow she thought of last night. Her head itched, and she scratched it groggily as she sat up. After putting on her Brahmin skin pants and vest, she walked downstairs, grabbed a box of Sugar Bombs and headed out the door. She walked outside and realized her sleep schedule needed some serious adjusting. Her Pip-boy flashed 5:06 AM. Well, I'm already up, she thought, shrugging. She walked behind buildings to avoid the few residents up at this time. Slipping in the back door of Moriarty's, Sarah crouched down to avoid detection. Slowly, she walked through the back office until she was right behind her target. She set down her Sugar Bombs and shifted her weight. Sarah pounced, taking her prey with a single move.

With a shout, Gob fell over. When he looked down, he realized that he was sitting on top of the Vaultie and she was grinning from ear to ear. He sighed and she grinned even larger. With a smirk, Gob began bouncing, and he earned a grunt of discomfort. He stood up, still laughing as the girl flopped on the floor. She looked every bit a beached whale. Exasperated, she finally sat up, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. Still sitting in the floor, she reached back and grabbed the Sugar Bombs and began eating them straight out of the box. The radio played in the background and Sarah thought she heard Three Dog mention her. She did her best to ignore it. Turning back to Gob, she smiled.

"Did I scare ya, Gob?" she asked innocently.

He pretended to ignore her, until she began throwing Sugar Bombs at his face. After one of them hit him in the eye he stomped over and grabbed the box of cereal. With a shriek the girl protested. He lifted the box into the air, above his head. Carrying the cereal box with him, he began restocking the bar. The Vaultie, meanwhile, did her best to jump up and grab the box. Her and Nova are the only ones that treat me like a person, Gob thought as he watched he wiggle her fingers in the air, trying desperately to reach the box in his hands. Nova, who was sitting in her usual spot, cackled as the girl finally climbed up the ghoul's back and grabbed the cereal box. Still perched on Gob's shoulders, she resumed eating her breakfast. All three of them were laughing by the time Gob managed to pull her off of him.

Sarah had just remembered, like an idiot, that she forgot to give Carol Gob's letter. She felt guilty, but it wasn't like she had been in the best of shape. Still, she hoped Gob would forgive her.

"Gob!" said a stern voice from upstairs. The ghoul froze. Heavy footsteps came down the steps one at a time, and Sarah scowled as she saw the bar owner, Moriarty. A cigarette in one hand, he frowned. "How many fucking times to I have tell you to get your rotting ass back to work. I'll add onto your debt if I don't see some actual work," he yelled in his thick Irish accent. He flinched and rushed to the counter to collect dirty mugs.

"Ah, little lass, how are ye?" Moriarty smirked, looking down at her. She ignored him, and got up to go sit at the bar. Boxing Gob on the ears, Moriarty admonished him. "Aren't ye gonna ask the lass if she wants a drink?" Sarah twirled a butter knife on the counter, trying to control herself.

He stuttered, "Yes sir, of course sir. Get right on that sir."

Watching this exchange, Sarah was enraged. It was all he could do to keep her mouth shut. The atmosphere in the bar was tense, and when asked if she wanted to buy anything, it really wasn't a choice. She ended up purchasing three bottles of beer, but when he went to bring them to her them he tripped, dropping all three. Gob looked down horrified, but before he could say anything Moriarty was on him. The enraged man pushed him down and began savagely kicking him, the stomach, the legs, wherever he could get. Nova screamed. By the time Sarah was able to shove Moriarty away, Gob was breathing raggedly and his face was beginning to swell.

With her hands out towards Moriarty, Sarah called out to Nova. She nodded towards Gob, while keeping her eyes on Moriarty. "Nova, take him to my house. Use the infirmary. There's dirty water on the shelf in the kitchen. Gob will know what to do," she instructed. The two shuffled towards the door, with Nova supporting him as best she could. Moving to stop them, Moriarty stepped forward.

"No. We need to talk," Sarah sneered, blocking his path. "No more hitting Gob. That's it. Do you understand?"

"Lass I reckon I can do whatever I please with the corpse," he said laughing.

"What does Gob owe you, I'll pay it. Just let him go."

Moriarty just laughed, "Lass, there's no way in hell I'm ever letting him go. He's a free employee, loyal as a dog. Almost a literal dog too."

Sarah wrinkled her brow. "I was afraid you'd say that," she sighed. "Are you sure that there isn't anyway I could get you to change your mind?" she asked, walking up to Moriarty with a defeated expression on her face. Moriarty grinned.

"Aye, lass, there might be a way," he chuckled, while he leered at the young girl. She touched him lightly on the shoulder, and drove the butter knife into his chest. Moriarty wheezed, falling to his knees. She pulled out the knife and his white t-shirt became stained in blood. Twirling the knife, she walked behind him. Leaning over, with her mouth next to his ear, she whispered, "Who is the corpse now?" She then slid the dull knife across Moriarty's throat, carving it. He choked out a gurgling scream before collapsing in a pool of his own blood. Calmly Sarah wiped her hands on Moriarty's pants.

Charon heard the door open. He silently got out of bed and made his way across his room. Cracking the door open, Charon saw a woman with unkempt red hair, supporting a ghoul up the stairs. The ghoul's face was bruised and swollen. Charon opened the door completely and both the woman and ghoul froze. "Who're you?" he grunted at them.

The woman, staggering under the ghoul's weight, said, "My name is Nova and this is Gob. We know Sarah. She sent us here because Gob needs help."

Unsure, Charon thought for a moment before allowing them to use the infirmary while his employer returned. As a precaution, he kept his gun pointed as the ghoul sat down at the med station.

The first rays of light were beginning to shine and Sarah knew she didn't have much time. Rushing back to her place she burst through the door to her house. Running upstairs, she found Nova tending to Gob in the infirmary, and Charon aiming his gun at them.

"Charon, they're okay," she assured. He lowered his weapon. Both Nova and Gob looked nervously at Charon before focusing their attention on Sarah. She walked over to them and handed them a large bag of caps. "Go somewhere. Be seen. Now. The Brass Lantern, the doc. Somewhere public," Sarah instructed.

Gob blanched. "Sarah, what have you done?" he asked.

"Only what had to be. Now go," she insisted. "Charon, we need to go. Pack everything you need for a 3 day scouting trip." Wordlessly he turned and walked to his room. Sarah then grabbed her own pack and began shoving things in. When she was ready, she grabbed the two sniper rifles and when she met Charon at the top of the stairs Sarah handed him one. I guess it's now or never, Sarah thought.


	8. The Journey is Half the Story

Chapter 9: The Journey is Half the Story

Charon followed his employer underneath the arched gate of Megaton. She circled behind the wall and headed west. He stayed five feet back and to the right, gun in his hand. Time passed slowly as the sun rose higher into the sky. He wasn't quite sure how to handle his indiscretion of last night, so he chose to not bring it up.

Chalk it up to being wounded, he thought. The smoothskin was constantly stopping to check her Pip-Boy and so progress was slower than he would've liked. Micro changes to the course added up, taking up more and more time. He guessed that they had travelled 4 miles by the time the sun was highest in the sky. A group of crows circled in the distance when his employer suddenly crouched. He followed suit as they approached a mostly ruined church. Standing outside were two super mutants. One of them had a machine gun and was wildly waving it around, while the other watched in amusement.

He glanced at her to determine the plan. So far we've evaded trouble, so why was she risking our position now? he wondered. He would never question his employer out loud, but his mind was safe from the contract. For the most part, he added. After looking at Pip-Boy again, she looked at Charon and pulled out her sniper rifle, nodding for him to do the same. Once they were in position, they aimed at the super mutants.

She whispered, "On your right," so quietly that it was almost lost on the wind. "On my three, 1…2…3…" she ordered.

Both shots were deadly accurate, and both super mutants slumped to the ground before the shots echoed across the wasteland. Before Charon could react his employer was already slinking across the rocks towards the church. He was still thirty feet back by the time she had made it to the door. Charon made a note that she was faster than him. Suddenly a shadow fell across her dwarfed figure, as another super mutant stepped out in front of her. The smoothskin was too close for him to try to shoot the damn thing, and he could only watch as they engaged.

As soon as his employer saw the supper mutant, almost gracefully, she stepped forward with her right leg and hooked around its body with the left. Pushing herself forward, she ended up behind the green brute. Charon lost sight of her momentarily, before she appeared again crouched on the super mutant's shoulders. The dumb beast was grabbing at her, but his overdeveloped muscles prevented him from reaching her on his back. She cocked her head and smirked before driving her combat knife through the top of the super mutant's skull. She rode the giant to the ground and then stood, obviously pleased with herself.

Charon stared at her, and Sarah looked away, suddenly shy. She shrugged. "I climb on Gob all the time. He steals my stuff," she explained. "I figured it couldn't be that different. I mean, structurally anyways." Suddenly remembering why she had killed the super mutants, she ran into the church. "Oh!" she exclaimed.A man kneeled in the corner, bound and gagged. His eyes were filled with terror. Sarah quickly bent down and untied the man. She could tell that he was just an average wastelander. He doesn't even have a gun, she thought.

"Thank you! Whoever you are, thank you! The... things they talked about doing to me..." the man shuddered and Sarah patted his shoulder.

"You're okay now," she reassured the man. "Here, take this," she said, handing him a basic .32 pistol, ammo, and enough food to last the day. "Travel east," she said, "and you should come upon Megaton, do you know where that is?" The man nodded. "Good, go to Megaton and ask to speak to Sheriff Simms. Tell him 101 said to give you a bed in the Common House, on me. Do you have any skills?" she then asked, smiling at the timid man.

"I'm pretty good at fixing things," the man mumbled.

"Great! Find Walter and you can help him at the water processing plant. The old coot is always going on about the place falling apart. Maybe you can help."

He was nodding when he noticed Charon, leaning up against the doorframe.

"Gh-g-ghoul!" he cried, obviously terrified.

Sarah quickly stepped in front of him. "No, this is my friend. He's a good guy. He helped me rescue you. We have to go, but go to Megaton and they'll help you, okay?"

The man, still unsure about the stoned faced ghoul, nodded at Sarah. As he walked past the door he looked over his shoulder to watch his back.

Charon watched the man as he walked back the way they had just came. Turning, he looked down at the smoothskin. She was biting her lip. He knew what she was going to say.

"Sorry," she said.

"Why," he feigned ignorance. It doesn't bother me. Not anymore, he thought.

He bent down and began fiddling with his bag. He couldn't look at her right now. He couldn't bear to see pity in her eyes. Fuck pity. Didn't do any damn good for anyone.

"His reaction… He just doesn't know you. Like I know you. If he did, I know he'd see you differently," she said, her heart catching in her throat.

He stood up suddenly. Looking down at her he grabbed her chin with one hand, forcing her to look at him.

"Look at me Smoothskin. There is no other way to see me. I am a man walking around in a rotting flesh suit. You don't know jack shit about me. I'd kill a newborn if you commanded it. Is that the guy you think you know?" he sneered. He roughly let go of her jaw. "Let me know when we need to head out," he said over his shoulder as he walked away. She was just so goddamned irritating. She never stopped talking. But… he shouldn't have touched her. That was his employer. If he had ever touched Ahzrukhal, it would've been a cold day in hell before he got to eat again. That was the problem with his contract. It said physical abuse, but it never talked about letting him eat or sleep. Most of his employers had been... efficient... at bending the rules of his contract.

The church was mostly standing, and a fire burned in the corner, so they decided to stop for rest and food before the sun went down. Well, Charon had grunted when she told him, which was sort of like a decision. After what Charon said, Sarah didn't know what to say, so she let him be. The fire crackling was the only sound while they ate their dinner. Picking at her food, she would occasionally glance over at Charon, but he refused to acknowledge her. Face half illuminated by the fire, he looked like a storm contained behind a pane of glass. Unwanted, tears began to fall from her cheeks. She tried to wipe them away, desperate to hide her weakness.

Charon looked up just in time to watch his employer wipe away her tears. His face twitched as she sniffed quietly. She looked down, avoiding his gaze. He had hurt her, and he knew it. A hand extended outwards to touch her, and he almost didn't recognize it as his own. He looked at her longingly, trying to stop himself. Walking around the fire, he placed a palm on top of her head.

"I'm sorry."


	9. Memory is a Bitch

Chapter 10: Memory is a Bitch

Sarah checked her Pip-boy. We're almost there, she thought. She glanced back at Charon. They hadn't really spoken during the journey. He hadn't said anything since…

I'm sorry, his voice echoed in her head. He had sounded so plaintive. His voice was filled with pain, and although she was familiar with the feeling, she wasn't sure how to help him. Dad would know what to do.' Sarah was still angry with her father for abandoning her, but she still valued his advice. Shaking her head, she tried to brush her thoughts away. She needed to be focused on the problem at hand, not her dad (or Charon, she added.)

Sarah eyed the sky, then set her bags against a large boulder formation. They were a hundred yards from the south side of Fort Bannister. The info that Dukov had given her about the Talon Company had been extremely useful. The south side fence was down in one place, just like Dukov said. If the rest of his information was correct, they would have over half the camp wiped out before anyone knew what was happening. If it wasn't, Sarah hoped she got out alive just so she could put a bullet between Dukov's eyes.

"Might as well settle in. We start at 1 AM. It's 4 now. I suggest we sleep in shifts. I'll take first watch," she said, nonchalantly. At least, that's how she hoped it sounded. In truth, her stomach flipped at the thought of seeing Charon sleep.

"No, I will watch. I am your guard," he objected.

"Look, I need you in top form. That means rest. You can't help me if you get shot," she pointed out. Charon stared at her silently with his arms folded. Ordering him was technically an option, but she was loathe to do that, even though she knew he wouldn't budge. "Fine," she said, throwing up her hands, "if you get shot don't complain."

When she turned away to get her sleeping roll, she was damned if she didn't glimpse a smirk on Charon's face. Her jaw dropped, but she snapped it closed so quickly that her teeth hurt. Rolling over, she tried to get comfortable on the rocky ground. Sooner than she expected, she was drifting off to sleep.

God she's a stubborn little ass, Charon thought. The smoothskin had put her hands on her hips and had tried to take first watch. Like hell. Charon wasn't about to let his employer watch him while he slept. It was against every bit of training he had. He was trained to take orders, but his primary directive was to protect his employer. When she gave in, he smiled internally at his little victory. He may be a slave in all but name, but even slaves can win occasionally.

Once her breathing was regular, Charon relaxed a bit. Tilting his head back, he watched as birds circled above them. His mind drifted to his past. His father bringing back ducks from his hunting trip… His dog Peaches, a yellow lab, would come bounding through the door after him. The dog would run up, giving long licks to Charon's face until he giggled for her to stop. His mother, so beautiful, dried her hands on a dishtowel before kissing his father. They looked down at him and smiled. Peaches felt warm in his lap. The image blurred.

Charon opened his eyes. The world seemed dark and cold. Birds still circled above them. He was tempted to shoot them. "Goddamned vermin," he mumbled. It had been a long time since he had thought about his family. He sighed. Charon didn't want to remember.

A quick touch to the arm woke Sarah, and she nodded to the dark figure. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, casting her companion and everything else into darkness. She checked her Pip-boy and realized it was 12:15. Forty-five minutes. Gathering her weapons she turned on the flashlight from her Pip-boy and began making routine repairs and making sure all weapons were fully loaded. She wasn't particularly skilled with weapons repair, but she could make sure the damn thing didn't fall apart in her hand. Normally she would've been worried about the light her flashlight produced, but behind this large boulder they wouldn't be able to see the glow from their direction.

By the time she had finished it was 12:45. Noting that her had been checking his weapons as well, she nodded. He was obviously more skilled than she was, and she hoped eventually she could persuade him to teach her. "You ready?" Sarah asked.

"Are you?" he responded stoically. Without responding, she turned off her Pip-boy light. It was time.

When they were past the gate the smoothskin signaled Charon to go left. He flanked off, going about ten feet before he saw the first sentinel walking in front of him. The man had his back turned and his throat was slit before he could even register the blade on his neck.

Moving on, he noticed a tent up ahead. He slipped in and noticed two men sleeping on mattresses. He crouched at the head of one man and covered the man's mouth with his hand. The man's eyes flew open and Charon slipped his blade between his ribs. Charon watched as the man's life drained out of his eyes. It gave him satisfaction. Moving onto the next man, he performed the same grim ritual. When he exited the tent, he wiped the blood on the door flap, marking it.

Sarah moved quickly through the shadows. Time was limited. Her plan was to completely wipe out the ground sentinels, working their way around the perimeter until she met Charon on the opposite side. Along the way, they would eliminate any sleeping Talon Company in the tents that edged along the fence line. Dukov had warned her about the tent in the crater. Apparently the guy slept with a missile launcher. She crouched in the shadows when she saw the tent and crept in slowly. Luckily the man was still sleeping, his arm draped over the prophesied missile launcher. In one fluid motion she swung her leg over the man, pinning his arms to his sides. She covered his mouth with her hand and held one finger to her lips.

"Shhh," she whispered, almost seductively. The man eyed her warily. She wiggled her hips and the man smiled, relaxing. Men are so simple, Sarah thought before pulling out a silenced 10 mm. The man struggled as she aimed it at his head. The quiet pop of her gun stilled him. Blood dripped onto the floor, pooling beneath the bed.

By the time she had made it to the northern wall she was sweating. She checked the time. 3 o' clock, she thought, we have just enough time. She looked around for Charon and saw him striding towards her in the dark. Even in the shadows, his form was unmistakable. Her body grew warm at the sight of him. In his hand was a wet blade. It was dark, but she could see the hard glint in his eyes.

They met under one of the ruined buildings along the north wall. Dukov had mentioned in his notes that this would make the best sniping spot to pick off the Talon Company mercs in the center, as well as the ones on lower ruined buildings. The ascent was easy and they had made it to the third floor without trouble, when Sarah stopped. She looked up and realized that she couldn't reach the next floor. If we stay on the third floor we'll be even with the other snipers. That's not really an advantage, she thought. Large hands picked her up, and she almost yelped before covering her mouth. Looking down, she realized that Charon was lifting her onto his shoulders so she could reach the next floor. Smiling, she rubbed Charon's head, then pushed off with her hand, putting her feet on his shoulders. From there it was an easy climb to the fourth floor.

Charon had picked the smoothskin up before he knew what he was doing himself. She just looked so damned…something… standing there biting her lip, he thought. He knew she couldn't reach the next floor without difficulty. Even though she hadn't asked, he decided to make it easier, even though Charon was sure, left to her own devices she could figure something out.

After she had climbed onto the next floor, she poked her head over the ledge and grinned. A hand reached out to him, her fingertips wiggling.

"Let me help you," she whispered down to him. He scoffed in reply, looking away. When he looked up at her again she looked hurt. "Charon, please. Trust me," she pleaded. In spite of himself, he found himself reaching out to her. He grabbed her hand and was surprised when she was able to pull him up.

"Save me," Charon whispered, but his words were lost to the wastes.


End file.
